Valam was interrupted one more time on the way to his tent, but this intrusion did not bother him. He and Seth had been through a lot together and to part now when they had come so far seemed ironic. But sometimes, thought Valam, “Irony was truth.” And so when all preparations were made, he watched Cagan’s steady hand lead the ship into the tack, turning back only after great hesitation.
“Goodbye,” he whispered in his thoughts to Seth, Liyan and the others. “I have faith we will see each other again soon.”
Chapter Twenty Three
“Amir, Amir? Can you hear me? Answer me.”
“Noman?”
“No, I am Xith. Welcome back; you just sit there. You have been under too much strain lately. You will ride in the coach today and rest.”
“Xith?”
“Yes, you just rest now, everything will be fine.”
“Where is Noman?”
“Never mind, you just rest there a moment more.”
Xith indicated that Shchander and Nijal should help Amir into the carriage now. The two did as they were bid, but it took a third to bear such an enormous burden. Nijal grabbed Amir on the left, Shchander on the right, and Trailer took the feet, stepping into the coach first and then carefully turning with the others to carry Amir inside.
The pace was lethargic this day as anticipation grew to a new high. The road joined with the great river and now ran along its course. Krepost’ lay a day away at best and soon the sea would separate them from the lands of East and West. Noman turned to thoughts of supplies they would need for the north, and while the others turned to thoughts of Krepost’, a song sprang to their lips.
Adrina stared fixedly at Amir with open concern upon her face. She watched him for a time, growing restless, and finally turning her attentions to the scenery around her. She could hear the churning of water even over the rolling of the wagon’s wheels and the clippety-clop of the horses’ hooves. A voice startled her, and though she knew better, she stuck her head out the window, looking for the speaker.
“You would do best to turn around, friends,” rang the lofty voice.
“Turn around?” asked Xith. “Why whatever for?”
“And what makes us your friends?” asked Nijal.
“Whoa, hold on there. You be talking to old Kelar. I can see clearly you are from the west and have traveled far, so I will tell you this: ‘tis not a good time to be happening upon our fair city.”
Noman smiled and considered the words before responding. “We will watch our path, friend Kelar, thanks.” Kelar just waved and continued on his way. The others in his party passed without saying a word. Xith turned to Noman and raised an eyebrow. He was glad to know some things didn’t change. The people of Krepost’ were still as odd and unpredictable as he recalled them.
Hours later, after several stops, the descending sun on the horizon lighted a most magnificent sight. High upon a steep bluff with cliff walls cascading down to meet the bay sat the city of Krepost’, coming into view at long last. The only road that cut its way to the top of the aerie lay just across the river. The distance they needed to traverse and the climb would unfortunately cost them several hours of toil before this day was over, but they would gladly pay the price.
A cool breeze came in across the bay on a direct westerly course, bringing with it an odor of salt that assaulted the senses. Travel-weary bodies gained a new surge of energy that swept them onward; even the horses seemed to sense a long-deserved rest ahead. Shchander raced Nijal to the river, charging his mount to the very edge of the water.
The two stood there, waiting for the others to catch up. Nijal considered the promise he had made to himself some weeks ago when the nine men had joined their company. Once they reached the coast, their journey together would end. As he watched Shchander’s lighthearted mood, he let the thoughts slip away. He would consider them at another time, perhaps after several days of rest.
Xith reined the horses to a halt, stepped down from the coach, and then walked over to a lantern hanging from a small post. For a moment, he thought about lighting it with a spark of magic, but the idea was short-lived. He retrieved flint and steel and set a spark to the lamp, raising it high above his head, and rotating it from right to left.
In the falling light, he waited for the signal to return, thinking that perhaps the brightness of the setting sun obscured the response. He waited until the sun sank from sight, and then repeated his signal. He paused, waiting patiently, and then handed the lantern to Nijal. Hearts sank after minutes passed with still no response; nonetheless, they waited.
Discouraged, they set up camp without much discussion. The lights of the city pointing the distance canceled any feelings of merriment. This stage of their journey would last one more day, and there was nothing they could do about it although Xith did work up a long list of harsh words to launch at the barge-master.
Amir awoke from a long day’s sleep just as the sky was shrouded in darkness. He was still quite groggy as he approached the fire where most were seated. The smell of fish surprised his nostrils. Nijal and Shchander muttered something about idle hands when he inquired where the meal had come from. Stiffly, Amir sat down on the ground. The raging hunger in his belly was quenched, but only after his third helping.
As the time for the first watch arrived and the men began to retire for the evening, Amir offered to take the first watch, claiming he wasn’t tired in the least. Shchander, who was supposed to have the first watch anyway, said he would hold the watch with Amir. The sounds around them began to die out, the crackle of the fire was replaced by the swirl of the water, and later the sound of laughter drifted into their ears and into their thoughts.
Shchander turned cold eyes to the glow in the distance. Before the last embers from the fire were extinguished, he stocked and restored it. Soon it was a cheerful blaze once more. A sudden crackling sound from behind him startled Shchander. He stood and walked toward it.
“Don’t worry, Shchander. It was nothing.”
“But, I thought—”
“Only an animal passing by, come back to the fire.”
Shchander sat back down, casting away the dark thoughts in his mind. As the last hour of their watch wore on, the day’s travel caught up to Shchander and his eyes grew heavy. He could scarcely hold them open. “Go get some rest. Shalimar will take over in a few minutes—I can sit out the rest by myself,” offered Amir, and Shchander accepted. Sleep found him as soon as he put his head down to rest.
Amir never roused Shalimar or anyone else. He sat the guard throughout the hours of darkness. The first shards of morning light found him sitting beside a low fire. His attention was turned toward the black waters where the river joined the bay. He was careful to wake Noman and Xith last.
Breakfast was quick, and most did not eat at all. The ferry came into view just as they broke camp. Xith waited, lantern in hand, closely eyeing the old one who guided those who pushed the barge along its course. As it landed on the shore, Xith blew out the lamp and set it back on its post. He organized the words that gnawed at his thoughts all night. “Hello—” he greeted the barge-master coldly, stopping only to work out his remaining words.
“Well, a good day to you, and such a beautiful day it is. Well, well, what are you waiting for? Come aboard, and I will take you across the river for a pittance.”
The warm salutation caused Xith to stumble in venting his wrath and what came out was not what he intended. “And just how much is that going to cost us?”
“Less than you would think, my friend. Come, step aboard, and we’ll carry you off to the northern shore. The fair city of Krepost’ waits. The market is just awakening. You can catch a fair amount of goods for a goodly sum if you are quick. So you must hurry!”
“Do you wish payment now or later?”
“We’ll have time on the river for petty things. Come and listen to the words of an old river man. I’ll tell you things you’ve never heard, and I’ll charge you a meager fare, but only for the
river’s crossing. You need not pay for the words unless you’ve a mind.”
Xith cursed low under his breath and boarded with the others. The barge-master caught the malice in his eyes and was quick to burst into a story and to set the barge on its return course. Thankfully, everyone was able to get onto the ferry without trouble. The river here was quite swift although in this section it was also shallow and was normally turbulent. The raft was of generous proportions.
Four men guided the barge toward the other shore, one in each of its corners, as the master explained its workings, among the many tales he spun in the short time. He explained how the ferry had two landings on the opposite shore and that the easterly one was the one they should wait at on their return route, for the other was just the landing for the return from the southerly shore. He told them how two asses bore the barge back to the departure landing against the river’s current and he even worked the sum of their payment into a song.
Feeling sorry for his wry demeanor, Xith dropped twice the necessary coinage into the old man’s hands as they disembarked. As he rode away, he glanced back with a hint of laughter yet in his eyes. He watched the two mules pull the ferry along the river’s edge. The road to Krepost’ was the only path they could follow, and as it was where they were bound for, they took it with great eagerness, following as it slowly wound its way to the top of the bluff.
The answers Xith and Noman sought were beyond Krepost’, but for now the small company was safe. The city would house and keep them until they were ready for the next, more dangerous, part of the journey.
End Of Book Three
The dragons will be revealed.
IN THE SERVICE
OF DRAGONS IV
BOOK FOUR
ROBERT STANEK
Chapter One
Lord Geoffrey of Solntse awoke in darkness. “Calyin? Midori? Brodst?”
“No, they are not among us.”
“Lord Serant?”
“No, it is only us.”
Geoffrey’s thoughts spun. The last thing he remembered was the encounter with the bandits and the hunter clan. “Dead? Are they all dead?” he asked, fearful of the answer.
“Perhaps. I do not know.”
“Where—where am I? Why is it dark?”
“They like to keep us in the dark.”
“Who are they? Wait a minute—who are you?”
“Don’t fret so much. You should relax; you have been unconscious for days.”
“Days?”
“Yes, I am afraid so.”
“Do you know where the others are? The ones who were with me.”
“I am afraid that I only saw you—well, actually I didn’t really see you. I heard them carry you in.”
“It is cold in here. Where is that wind coming from?”
“There is a blanket there, beside you.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. I have done nothing.”
“What is that sound? Who is that?”
“Oh, him. Don’t pay any attention to him; he goes on like that all the time. Here, try to drink some of this.”
Geoffrey was thirsty; he drank deep. An instant later, he was spitting out what he hadn’t already swallowed. “Oh, that’s awful; what is this?”
“Would you believe water, or so I am told. It is horrible, but wait till you try the food.”
“—Oh—I don’t feel so good.”
“You should rest. Find sleep, and find solace in it.”
“What an odd word! Makes me almost want to laugh.”
“Odd times—odd times.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shh—they come. Just sit quietly.”
“Who?”
“Shh—” The other shuffled in the darkness. “It is okay; they only brought food. Here, eat some of this.”
“Your hands—what is wrong? Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No offense taken, and I am sure if there were a spark of light in this hole, you would understand.”
“What do you mean? Oh, I am sorry. I shouldn’t pry. You are right; this is awful.”
“It is all right.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A long time—too long.”
Geoffrey eased back, pulled the blanket around him, slipping quickly into a deep sleep. When he awoke what could have been hours or days later, he ate the leftovers in the bowl beside him, choking down whatever his stomach sought to spit back up. The other did not stir. In the darkness, Geoffrey could not tell if the other were sleeping or dead. He hoped the former and not only because the latter would mean that he was alone in this forsaken place.
Some time later, the guards brought food and water. Geoffrey ate and drank, perhaps more than his fair share. What followed was a seemingly ceaseless cycle of sleeping, waking, and eating. His strength returned. The other in his cell remained strangely quiet, withdrawn perhaps by something Geoffrey had said.
Feeling stronger made him bolder. When the guards returned, he shouted at them, “I demand that you release me at once!”
“You make no demands here!”
“Release me and my companion at once!”
“Hardy, har, har—you make me laugh. Hey, he wants to go home!”
“Set me free, or I’ll cut your heart out myself.”
“Cut my heart out, free?”
“I am a free man. You have no right to hold me.”
“So you are. Sprout wings and fly away, but even those will not help you here.”
“Take me to see your leader at once!”
“Our king is a very busy man, but I will tell him you wish an audience. You are such an important person that I am sure he will jump to his feet and come running at once.”
“Do you mock me?”
“Why, yes, of course!”
“I will hold you in contempt for this!”
“Contempt of what? What are you going to do to me? If you do not shut your mouth, I will not even bring you your food.”
“I would much rather starve!”
“Then so be it. The other one with a big mouth will not eat today!”
“Do you think I care?”
“We shall see—we shall see.”
Geoffrey said no more, his thoughts going first to those he thought lost: Prince Calyin Alder, Captain Ansh Brodst, Lord Edwar Serant, Sister Midori—she who had once been a favored daughter and princess of the realm. Were they all dead now like the Alder king? Had the enemies of old broken the heart of the kingdom? Did Solntse yet stand and were her people yet free?
He whispered the free man’s creed, “I am a free man, and I will die as such.” He begged the Lord of the Heavens to spare his son, Nijal, if no other. “Please, oh lord,” he whispered. “Has madness beset the lands?”
As he despaired, his hand longed to find the hilt of his sword and do what any righteous man would do in an hour of need. “A free man,” he said, mocking himself as he paced in the darkness. He shouted to the heavens, “Oh lord, help me find my way, bring light to end the darkness.”
“You want light?” said a voice from the hall. “What else is it you long for, old man? Perhaps you seek a blade? Perhaps you seek a way out?”
“I want only light so that I may see. Please, I beg of you.”
“Light, eh? You’ll regret it. Soon you’ll long to return to darkness, trust me.”
Geoffrey heard a bolt being moved aside. A moment later a thin line of blinding white light poured into the room from a small window cut into the heavy wooden door. Geoffrey shielded his eyes; the pain caused by the light was so intense that he fell to the floor writhing.
“Still want light?” the guard asked, laughing as he fully opened the shielding window.
Geoffrey put his hands over his eyes to stop the pain. “How many days and weeks in darkness?” he asked, his voice trembling.
The guard offered no response save for the retreating echo of his footsteps as he moved down the hall.
Time passed. The long minutes blended together one after the other. The light became almost bearable. The guard returned. “I’ve been told to give you this.” Geoffrey heard the clank of metal as something was thrown into his cell.
Geoffrey tried to open his eyes. His vision was blurred; all he could see were white points of light and a narrow path of what was around him. He groped with his hands in the darkness, found what the guard had thrown into the room. “A blade—you give me a blade?”
Complete In the Service of Dragons Page 54